You have magic!
by livviedoo
Summary: This is my own little 'fill-in-the-blanks' series about my fave scenes. All awesomeness of course belongs to Angel, Bradley, Colin, Katie and the rest of the medieval Scoobies. And everything else belongs to Shine TV.


**Fill in the Blanks– 4 x 13: "The Sword in the Stone Part 2" – **_**You Have Magic!**_

The tunnels were dark and cold, and Merlin knew that sound carried in their depths so he had to ensure that he drew Agravaine and his men as far away from Arthur as possible in case things went differently than he hoped. It was hard to run and breath properly in the dank air, let alone do so while trying to find and distract the enemy in the cavernous maze, but Merlin was aware that he could not fail in his efforts or the consequences for all them would be great.

Pausing to catch his breath he heard the muffled sounds of Agravaine's men. Merlin hoped that he could somehow persuade or delude them long enough so that Arthur, Gwen, Tristan and Isolde could make their escape. He held no fear for his own safety – Merlin was filled with a calm, cold confidence that was new and discerningly not uncomfortable to him. What Merlin feared was that his hand would be forced, and he would have to use his magic for darker purposes. As the clinking of their chainmail grew closer, Merlin took one last deep breath, and with dismissive shake of his head to dispel all negative thoughts, leapt out from his hiding place.

"_Oh, hello there!"_ he baited. Agravaine and his men complied and began pursuing Merlin through the tunnels. Merlin's hopes of leading them on a fruitless chase were ruined by the formidable presence of a dead end. Snippets of plans and alternatives coursed through his plots but all ended in obstacles as formidable as the cave wall before him.

"_Merlin!",_Agravaine called, stepping ahead of the group behind him.

There was only way this was going to end.

"_Merlin-" _

Already regretting what he now knew was inevitable, Merlin turned in the flickering torch light to face his pursuers.

"_- where's Arthur?"_

Once again Merlin hoped for another way out, something that was less seemingly damning than what he felt was unavoidable, but Agravaine was leaving him no options.

"_Be careful."_ It was a warning, but the futile tone in which Merlin muttered matched the futility of Agravaine's position.

"_What are you talking about?"_ Agravaine's confidence slipped for a moment as he scanned the dimly let cave walls, fearing that another encounter with a dragon or some other horror was lurking nearby. Seeing no danger, his resolve returned. _"Where's Arthur?"_

Agravaine watched Merlin shake his head and could not help but detect a note of pity in the servant's actions. It was confusing – all of it. A flaming beast of the air with only breath for his men, the intractable perseverance of his nephew, Arthur, despite everything, and now the inexplicable confidence of Arthur's servant in the face of what all knew was his death. He'd call it arrogance, but Merlin's actions denoted regret not revenge. Agravaine did not know what to make of it.

"_Tell me, now,"_ Agravaine commanded. _"Or I'll have to kill you."_

Merlin shook his head again, obviously reluctant to make eye contact. _"Tsk,"_ he chided his aggressor, before raising his eyes to meet his, _"I don't think so."_

Agravaine smiled at Merlin as if he were an errant child before taking a step towards him. The next thing he was aware of was a feeling of sudden lightlessness, followed by the suffocating whoosh of inadvertently forced air of his breath leaving him when he made forceful contact with the ground.

A momentary flood of relief washed over Merlin. He had avoided bloodshed yet succeeded in buying Arthur and the others enough time to make their escape. Striding forward his progress was halted by the sound of Agravaine coughing himself back into consciousness.

Damn.

Propelling himself into a sitting position, Agravaine pointed, excitedly, at Merlin. _"You have magic!"_ he exclaimed. Agravaine could not believe it – all this time a powerful force existed in the castle, as one of the king's inner circle. It was a brilliant step Agravaine could never have orchestrated himself.

Merlin saw Agravaine's excitement and suspected its cause. The way Agravaine said he 'had' magic irked Merlin. Merlin did not have magic – it was not something he procured or obtained as a means of changing or empowering himself. Merlin's magic was not a commodity to be used, or abused, on a whim. It was not even just a part of him. It was his past, present and future; who he was and who he was destined to be.

"_I was born with it,"_ Merlin countered, his gaze cold and level.

Agravaine smiled once more as he stepped towards Merlin, but this time it was with admiration. Perhaps all that had gone wrong in their plans had led him to this moment, to this opportunity. Maybe Morgana did not hold all the power after all. Another thought quickly dawned on him. _"So it's you!"_ He gasped as he took another step forward, pointing at Merlin. _"You're Emrys!"_

Merlin blinked. He knew! _"That is what the Druids call me."_ 'But not you', Merlin thought, 'you are not worthy to call me that'.

"_And you've been at court, all this time,"_ the wheels were turning in Agravaine's head, "at Arthur's side." Now Agravaine had to laugh. The man closer to the king than any other in the land, especially now that Guinevere had been dealt with, was a sorcerer, a practitioner of the very magic that had destroyed Arthur's mother, and betrayed Arthur's beloved. It was too perfect. _"How you managed to deceive him."_

Merlin winced.

Agravaine regarded Merlin with newfound respect. _"I am impressed, but"_ he chuckled once more, _"perhaps we're more alike than you think."_

Agravaine's words hurt because they were laced with truth. Merlin had been lying to Arthur all this time, and had seen first-hand what happens to those who betray the trust of a Pendragon. Arthur's destined love for Gwen could not overcome the damning wound of her betrayal – it was not just pride, it was the failure in misplaced trust that the betrayal revealed. It was a flaw Arthur would find intolerable in himself, and would deem irreconcilable in those closest to him. Yes, Merlin was lying to Arthur, but he had convinced himself that the deception was necessary in order to guide Arthur into becoming the king he was meant to be. But now everything was coming unravelled, and here he was in a darkened cave, face-to-face with his binary opposite – united in their deception of Arthur, but divided by their intentions and love of the king. No, Merlin was nothing like Agravaine.

Agravaine advanced, holding his hand out in friendship, but Merlin halted him in his tracks with a swift hand gesture of his own. Calculating as always, Agravaine withdrew, acquiescing to Merlin's rejection. Instantly he knew that Merlin would never align himself with him, that Merlin would seek, and could very well, bring about the destruction of all of their plans, Morgana and Agravaine himself. He decided to strike before he was stricken.

Before Agravaine formed the thought, Merlin knew what Arthur's uncle would do, and was ready. As he watched the man fly through the air once more and land with a bone-crunching thud on the rocky ground, Merlin knew he was dead.

One breath. Followed by another, then two more. Merlin mentally checked himself, to see if he felt different, if the intentional taking of a life by magic had darkened him, changing him for the worse. If he suspected that the darkness that had swallowed Morgana had gained a toe-hold on him as well, he knew he would lose himself in the maze of tunnels and abjure himself from society for the rest of his days. But as he took stock he realized that he felt the same. And that realization was more unsettling than if he had felt the opposite.

He looked once more upon Agravaine's fallen body, searing the image into his mind. Merlin never wanted to forget what happened here, and what he had done. He turned away, his heart pounding, but pounding steadily, and strode resolutely away to rejoin his friends.


End file.
